31. Conscription (I)

Time flies by so quickly it's almost astonishing. In the blink of an eye, another year and a half has passed. But for those who were prepared, it wasn't hard to accept. At least for Konrad Curze Curze.

He focused so intently on his duties that he made work a regular part of his routine—which might sound a little creepy, since the word "work" usually means "torture" most of the time.

However, he genuinely didn't find it unacceptable to spend more than twelve hours a day reviewing official documents.

Through the data reports, he could clearly see, and even perceive, that Nostramo was gradually changing. This process alone was enough to comfort him; the positive emotional reward was enough to offset all the discomfort caused by long hours of work.

Moreover, he knew very well that this situation was only temporary.

The Midnight Blade are, after all, a Legiones Astartes; they cannot remain in Nostramo indefinitely. The Great Crusade needs them.

So, try to get everything sorted out before then.

That's what he thought, and that's what he did. He maintained a calm and rational perspective as he observed everything around him, trying to ignore certain aspects of this mundane daily life—of course, he didn't succeed.

He couldn't ignore this.

--

"Close combat should be the last resort in a fight," Xianni said almost emotionlessly. "If you still have any weapons, or unless the enemy forces you to, don't put it into practice."

"Compared to swords and guns, unarmed combat is an inefficient option. You can use it to silently eliminate ordinary people or enemies who are unaware of you, but a knife is simply faster."

"It's much easier to insert a needle into the heart or cut the trachea than to reach out and snap a neck, but that being said, we should still practice it. It's always good to have more options in a crisis."

His voice echoed through the arched ceiling, and in the empty practice area, only one other person was listening to him, and he didn't seem to be paying attention.

He had long, black hair, which was now loose and fell over his shoulders. His cheeks were bruised and swollen, and he wore training armor. In his right hand, he held a training Chainsword. It was not fitted with monomolecular saw blades; the blades were made of ordinary steel.

"But you were just launching a sneak attack," the bruised man said hoarsely. "Weren't we having a sword fight, Instructor Xianni?"

"No one says you can't punch your opponent in the face during a sword fight. In fact, if I could, I'd Boltgun from hundreds of meters away instead of ambushing you at close range."

Xianni grinned, his smile brimming with smugness. The man with the bruised and swollen face noticed this and couldn't help but grind his teeth.

"Fighting is essentially about the strong bullying the weak; remember that. Fair duels are something only fools do unless you're engaging in a friendly technical exchange with us or our cousins."

Xianni said, emphasizing the word "friendship."

"You weren't very friendly just now," Sevatar shook her head, unable to resist retorting.

If it were someone else, he would use a long argument to refute the other party, but he is facing "Terra's Xianni," so a long argument is no longer an option.

After all, a year and a half has already passed.

Now, he looks almost completely different from before. He is six feet tall, and his bones are still creaking every night, which Sevatar suspects will continue to grow.

His muscles were the same; the synthetic substances and the instructions from the chief physician caused them to swell rapidly, and with a little exercise, they could improve day by day. In a year and a half, his physiological functions were almost perfect.

This power is visible to the naked eye and can be truly felt.

Now, Jago Sevatar can punch through a steel plate, twist steel with just his grip, and his speed is astonishing.

But he hasn't completed the final step yet, so he will still only be referred to as a recruit or a reserve for now.

"Friendship is just a lie." Xianni made no attempt to hide his contempt. "And you don't need to pretend anymore, Reserve Jago. From the very beginning, you've been plotting how to cut me down with that Chainsword, haven't you?"

Please call me Sevatar.

"Unless you hit me." Xianni smiled slowly, pulling down his visor as he did so.

The Night Lords possess a variety of training armor styles, though their purposes are largely the same, their appearances differ greatly. At this moment, Xianni is only wearing a simple, antique-style knight's helmet that seems more decorative than practical.

Not only was he not wearing training armor, but his posture was also extremely relaxed. He didn't seem to be facing an enemy wielding a weapon that could pose a death threat to him; rather, he seemed to be facing a young child.

You can probably guess his purpose, and he achieved it.

Sevatar took a slow, deep breath.

With a single sentence and his virtually unchanged demeanor, Xianni easily angered Sevatar. This anger had been building up for some time, and Sevatar had no intention of stopping it from erupting.

He stepped forward, and the Chainsword began to spin with a roar. The saw blade emitted a terrible noise, and his posture was vastly different from the ugly "monkey" that Richter Nair had scorned a year and a half ago.

He gripped the sword with only his last three fingers, while his index finger remained loosely clenched. It looked strange, yet it exuded a strong sense of power.

Xianni clearly saw this through his limited vision, and a smile bloomed on his face, "Very good, Jago."

He laughed and kicked Sevatar's left knee almost without holding back. Sevatar immediately heard the sound of his leg breaking, and he gritted his teeth to suppress a cry of pain.

His original sword momentum was blocked, and in theory, his attack should no longer be effective—but at this moment, Sevatar suddenly clenched his index finger.

At this point, his right hand was completely pressed against the sword hilt, while his left leg, which had stepped out, was firmly rooted to the spot. Amidst the booming sound, a slightly muffled but loud thud followed.

"Well done," Xianni said casually, taking a step back and casually raising his visor again.

Sevatar, panting heavily, slowly retracted his left leg and sat down on the ground. His Chainsword lay not far away; Xianni had knocked it away with just a combat dagger, and Sevatar hadn't even seen how he had done it.

"Your way of holding the sword is quite interesting. Reserved. You store your power until the right opportunity arises."

Xianni couldn't help but laugh and offered his assessment, "It's funny, but not very practical."

"Isn't it practical?" Sevatar asked calmly. His left hand was gently touching his knee, feeling the extent of the bone damage.

"Of course." Xianni nodded. "What do you think Chainsword is? A wooden stick? It doesn't require you to use a second burst of force to increase its lethality. As long as you make sure it hits the enemy, it will definitely not disappoint you. Well done, though."

He took off his helmet and turned it around. A dent in the visor was clearly visible, caused by a steel saw blade.

"Did I hit you?"

"Yes, Sevatar."

Xianni approached his only student, turned his helmet around, and pointed to the dent in the visor with his finger.

"In real combat, you should be able to blind me with the help of Power Armour and a real Chainsword, or simply slice half my face off."

"That sounds like a good thing." Sevatar grinned. "I think I'll give it a try if I get the chance."

"Yes, if you can get close to me, and I only have a short combat knife, you can indeed do it." Xianni's smile faded, and he lightly kicked Sevatar's injured left leg, causing him more pain.

"Do you understand now? Bullying the weak—remember these four words, recruit. You'll need them for the final assessment in two months."

Sevatar nodded slightly and gestured a Nostramo native hand gesture to Xianni. The Terra laughed and immediately returned the gesture. The Ancient Terra gang hand gestures flowed naturally from his hands, looking almost like a dance.

Sevatar pursed her lips, angrily forcing herself to look away, and stood up from the ground without relying on anyone.

He found his Chainsword, took it, and turned to leave the training ground. Training time was over; he was going to receive treatment.

Xianni knew that in just two more days, he would see the reserves active on the training field again. A broken kneecap was nothing; all that remained for Jago Sevatarion was the implantation of Black Carapace and a little more time to mature.

Then, he will officially enlist.

Xianni slowly lowered his head and fell into deep thought in the empty training ground.

This is rare, but he did feel a mix of emotions about it.

Jago Sevatarion was once a fine beast, and now he has grown claws and fangs, just a step away from becoming a truly terrifying monster.

His talent is beyond doubt, as Xianni has confirmed. Sevatar is a born warrior, Fer Zalost has also said that he has never seen Psyker so naturally powerful.

What will his future hold?

Xianni had no answer; he only had a strong intuition. He didn't believe this recruit would die on the battlefield; he would make a name for himself, he would—

The unarmed combat champion abruptly stopped thinking.

"--Instructor?" He turned his head and, unsurprisingly, saw Karyl Lohars.

The latter smiled at him as a greeting. Xianni couldn't help but sigh and complain, "Honestly, you really should change this habit."

"If I had made those corrections, your anti-submarine technology wouldn't have advanced so rapidly in just a year and a half."

"But this isn't stealth!" Xianni exclaimed. "Who can truly become one with the darkness like you?"

Konrad Curze Curze.

"."

Are you going to argue or just agree?

"I wanted to argue," Xianni replied sullenly. "But I think that would only make you make more fun of me."

"I'm not joking." Karyl nodded at him seemingly seriously, giving him a silent gaze. Just as Xianni was about to finally let out a long sigh, he spoke, subtly changing the subject.

"Alright, let's get down to business—how's he been lately?"

"Don't you watch it every day?"

"But I was just an observer after all." Karyl reached for the combat dagger in Xianni's hand and began to examine the scars on it from the clash with the Chainsword. "How can the feeling of being an observer compare to the feeling of being there firsthand?"

Xianni frowned and began to think.

"He's progressing very quickly," he said after a minute of silence. "No, actually, very quickly. I'm starting to believe the claim that he was already 'better' than others before the modifications."

"This kid has an inexplicable intuition in battle. If I only use one swordsmanship or fighting style against him, he will quickly find its weakness. I have to change my moves and techniques to deal with him. Moreover, he is very resilient."

At this point, the young man, a first-time teacher, finally showed a genuine smile, "This resilience allowed him to get up from the ground time and time again, and face me again and again."

Karyl listened silently, offering no comment. He continued to toy with the combat dagger. For the Astartes, it was already a decent weapon, but for him, it wasn't quite up to par.

However, this did not prevent him from running the blade between his fingers, even pressing it against his wrist, making it disappear into thin air. Only after completing this series of movements did he answer Xianni.

"You've done an excellent job, Instructor Xianni," Karyl said with a smile. "Looks like I finally have a proper colleague—how about it? After a year and a half with him, would you like to lead others in their training in the future?"

"Ah," Xianni paused for a moment. "No, let's forget about that."

Why?

"I'm afraid I don't have that much patience." Xianni shrugged. "You should handle this. Besides, what do you mean by that?"

Karyl smiled without saying a word. He handed the dagger back to Xianni, then turned around and slowly nodded towards the other end of the training field.

There, Konrad Curze Curze leaned against the wall, silently gazing in their direction. His long hair was loose, giving him a languid look, but his expression was extremely focused.

"The Primarch?" Xianni was taken aback.

"You've failed your anti-submarine warfare test again," Karyl said mercilessly.

"Well"

"Yes, conscription is about to begin," Konrad Curze Curze said in a low voice. "However, before that, I have a few questions for you, Karyl."

This chapter is 4k, I owe 2k, I'll pay it back tomorrow.

By the way, if you can tolerate the endless loading screens, the overwhelming amount of Deceit advertising, and the largely useless space in StarCraft, then it's actually a pretty good game.

I give it 6 points.